The Question Game
by Mrs. Cope
Summary: Asking questions is a good way to find out about someone… but only if they answer.


Winner of the 2018 Pick-A-Prompt Editor's Choice Award

Summary: **Asking questions is a good way to find out about someone… but only if they answer.**  
Disclaimer: **Twilight and its inclusive material is copyright to Stephenie Meyer. Original creation, including but not limited to plot and characters, is copyright to the respective authors of each story. No copyright infringement is intended.**  
Prompt quote: **When I feel worthless, I search "suicide" on Tumblr and tell strangers that, even if I don't know them, I love them and I don't want them to die.**

 **The Question Game**

"What would I buy, what would I buy…?" The woman cast her eyes to the ceiling trying to form an answer.

"I know what _I_ would buy," said her companion with dishwater blonde hair sitting across the table from her.

"Yeah, but it isn't your turn now, is it, Jessica?" The woman shot back her snippy answer, pushing Jessica back into her seat to sulk. She continued as if she hadn't stopped. "It's so hard because I have most everything I want already," she said, pausing to sniff. "But I guess I'd buy a flat in Tuscany… with four bedrooms… and an olive grove." Her eyes lit up as she added, "Ooh! And with hired hands!"

"Are you done, Lauren?" Jessica's ego still stung from Lauren's rebuke, but it was obvious she was anxious to answer. Lauren sighed deeply, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and lifted her chin into her palm in mock interest.

"I would buy a whole new wardrobe and add on a room that would be my closet!" Jessica beamed with her idea. "And I'd have a pair of shoes that matched perfectly with each outfit!"

Lauren smacked her lips and feigned boredom. "Small potatoes," she said, waving her hand and dismissing the idea.

"Hey, this is _my_ dream, Lauren. The game isn't about judging, it's about dreaming, isn't it, Bella?"

The woman who asked the original question nodded. "Uh, yeah, so, no judging." She took a deep breath. "Just to refresh: If you won the lotto and money was no object, what's the first thing you'd buy? Eric?"

It was my table, the kind I always got. The manager knew I could handle big crowds on my own and assigned me to the larger parties. It was fine with me, too. Usually, the bigger the party, the bigger the tips. With this group, tips could be iffy. I grabbed the ordering pad, adjusted my smile, and walked over to the big table.

"And I could teach surfing in Hawaii until the money ran out, since I'd already be there," Eric said, finishing his story.

"Hi, I'm Edward. I'll be your server tonight. Would you like to start by ordering drinks?" I waited as the chit-chat drink comparisons died down, making note of who checked with whom. It was a trick I'd discovered as a waiter: Find the one who everyone looks to, then persuade that person to order dessert. Bigger order, bigger tips.

The woman they called Bella led the ordering.

"I'll have a beer, thanks," she said timidly, only glancing up through her lashes.

A peculiar twinge flashed through me as she spoke. I wasn't sure why, but I wanted to get closer. I took a step towards her, and stopped at her elbow. Leaning down next to her, I asked, "Any particular brand, miss?"

Crimson blossomed in her cheeks, but she still didn't look up. _Embarrassment?_ Her blush was adorable. "Rainier?"

 _Ah, a local then._ "Great choice. We have that on tap – is that okay?"

"Sure," she said, without lifting her gaze.

I felt a bit confused. Our first words felt as if we had a connection, but I couldn't figure out why she wouldn't look at me. I'd met plenty of shy people with nervous fingers and low voices, but she didn't seem the type. After all, she was leading the group with the questions and the rules to the game they played, so shyness didn't seem to fit.

And I desperately wanted her to look at me.

The rest of the table followed suit with Vitamin R, except for the fussy blonde, Lauren, who ordered a Dirty Shirley with extra cherries.

By the time I retuned and set down the drinks, Bella announced a new question.

"Thinking about the architecture of houses, what type of architecture is the best fit for you?"

My ears perked up. Architecture was my major, and though she'd spoken softly, I heard the question in perfect clarity. It was as if she knew me and had asked this question was specifically for me. She couldn't know I was studying to be an architect, could she?

She looked at each person around the big table, watching and waiting.

I pulled myself back to my station just out of sight and listened the conversation bounce from person to person, waiting to see Bella's response to her own question and more anxious than I should be for her answer.

Her interest in their responses was genuine and pure. When someone needed an impetus to continue, she offered it gently and kindly. Her expressions were always open, warm, and supportive as the voiced dreams filled the air. The gift of her attention bestowed encouragement in a humble way.

Her gentle probing turned my thoughts inward, bringing my loneliness and separation drifting to the forefront. The study of architecture was a lonely process. College was competitive and expensive. Friends in classes soon became rivals; friendship at work tended to stay at work. I poured myself into study during my precious free time, working to maintain my GPA and scholarships. All this stacked the deck against relationships, pushing me towards listening to my own thoughts in attempt to drown out the rest of the world.

Living in my head did me no good, though. I often found myself obsessing over my faults, or pitying over my actual aloneness. The thoughts were toxic, relentless, and overwhelming, leaving me feeling hopeless and worthless. To escape my self-doubt, I'd reach to the outside world, looking for safe havens and ways to connect. In those moments when I felt worthless, I would search "suicide" on Tumblr and tell strangers that, even if I didn't know them, I loved them and I didn't want them to die. It was a little thing, to get me out of my head and let me feel connected, though one-sided. It was safe. This seemed to be Bella's way to connect, minimizing her risk. It was like the balm I'd found to break the cycle: Is that what Bella was doing?

"Hey, Edward," someone said, snapping fingers in front of my eyes. "They want you over at table six."

"Got it, thanks," I said, returning to the here and now to reply to the disembodied voice. Drawing my attention back to my work, I picked up the tray of drinks and tore myself away before she spoke.

o~0~o

I caught the end of another question when I returned to the table to take the dinner orders.

"Who would you chose?" Bella's deep brown eyes sparkled with curiosity.

"Oh, this is an easy one. Zac Efron, of course."

"But you don't even look anything like him!" Jessica shrieked.

"Damn skippy! I want the best! If it's the story of my life, I want someone more perfect to play me!"

"You know, in a weird way, that makes sense…," Eric said.

I cleared my throat. "Excuse me, I hate to interrupt, but would you be ready to place your order?"

The Zac Efron wannabe ordered first, making long, unnecessarily customized requests for his burger. I jotted them down and read it back to him, trying to keep the sarcasm and disdain out of my voice.

But in truth, my object of my attention sat firmly fixed at the other end of the table, quietly biding time for her chance to order. I stole glances at Bella at every opportunity, waiting with her, my heart pounding harder and faster the closer I came to her.

Finally, it was her turn to order and I stood at her side. "What would you like, miss?" _Me perhaps?_

She closed the menu and brushed her hair over her shoulder. "I'll have the mushroom ravioli, please." Her voice was soft and breathy, as if her heart were pounding, too.

 _Vegetarian?_ Interesting. Perhaps her kindness extended past the human world. "Excellent choice," I replied. "I'll put that in for you right away."

"Hey, waiter, you said your name's Edward, right?" I reluctantly pulled my gaze away from Bella to the guy sitting across from her.

"Yes. Is there something — ?"

"Settle a bet for us? This guy thinks Zac Efron should play him in the story of his life. Can you see Zac Efron _anywhere_ in this guy?"

The table exploded in laughter. My gaze flashed back to Bella, hoping again to catch her eye, but she stared into her drink with only a slight grin. As the laughter died down, she softly said, "Remember, no judgement. This should be just for fun." Her eyes swept the table, fixing on the Efron wannabe. "Go ahead, Tyler. Who else is cast in the story of your life?"

 _Kind. She's kind._ Her smile encouraged him to continue and hushed the jeers around the table.

At my station, I paid attention and listened to the group. I had yet to hear Bella answer one of her own questions; nothing would tear me away this time. I punched the orders into the computer screen slowly, listening, as one by one, the dinner guests cast their life stories until at last it was Bella's turn. My senses were on alert and my nerves were on fire with anticipation. I turned to watch her compose her answer and share.

She bit her lip for just a moment, then said, "That was pretty good, you guys. I didn't know my friends were so famous." The hum and buzz of laughter didn't distract my attention; my focus was Bella. "Since you're all really movie stars, what other famous person would you have dinner with if you could?"

"Living or dead?"

Bella tilted her head and shrugged. "Your choice."

The table was alight with conversation, giggles, and answers. Bella sat back in her chair quietly sipping on her beer, saying nothing.

My mouth fell open in astonishment. How had she… What … Why had no one asked _her_ about the movie of _her_ life? I studied each of the occupants of the table, watching for the moment they'd realize there was one answer missing, that she hadn't answered, that they'd gained no information about _her_. But no - nothing. Their attention shifted to the next question and the next round of answers, with Lauren answering first. The absence of care for Bella's answer stunned me and I felt the painful sting of disappointment.

o~0~o

Throughout the rest of the night, I watched and listened, mystified that not one person at the table missed Bella's answers. The whole situation seemed ludicrous: Here sat this beautiful, kind, intelligent woman who spoke little and answered nothing, with none of them paying her any attention! How was that possible? It happened over and over again. As the answers wore down, the group looked to Bella for the next topic, but never for her answer.

I wanted to know. No – I _needed_ to know. What would Bella buy if she won the lotto and money was no object? What type of house would best fit her? _Was_ she asking that just for me? I made up my mind: Bella _would_ answer those questions or I would go mad – one of the two _had_ to happen.

"I've thought about this a lot. I'd have to say a Tesla Model S," Lauren said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Daddy's getting one in midnight silver, but I think I'd get mine in deep blue metallic with chrome trim." I watched as she lifted her chin and literally looked down her nose at the man seated to her right. "Eric?"

"The 2018 Chevy Camaro in nightfall gray with twenty-inch alloy wheels and crimson stripes and detailing. It's wicked fast and —"

"Wicked fast? You want _wicked_ fast? I'd be the Ferrari La Ferrari," the guy with carefully-spiked hair interrupted. "Over 900 horsepower and zero to a hundred twenty-five in seven seconds flat. _That's_ wicked fast — and uber cool."

"Figures you'd choose a car with a dumb name. Who names a car 'car the car?' It's like, 'Mike the Mike'," he said, turning to the people around him for support.

"Ferrari does, man. This is like the Ferrari of all Ferraris. It's _that_ cool."

"Pump the brakes, weirdo. _Fast_ isn't everything," the shy girl with glasses said. "I like the Fiat 500. It's little and cute."

I picked up the tray to clear the big table and hefted it above my shoulder. Walking to the table, I continued listening.

"Yeah, I can see that for you," Jessica said. "And I'm with you: Fast isn't everything. There's a lot to be said for quiet, small, and adorable."

"Aw! Thanks, Jess," the woman said, twisting her hands together and pulling in her shoulders.

I came to stand beside Bella. "Can I take any of this away?"

"Um, sure. Thank you," Bella replied. Swiveling in her seat, she added her glass and plate to the tray and bit her lip. My heart raced as I stood beside her, aching for that moment of eye contact I so desperately craved.

She lifted her silverware to the tray, but hesitated, unsure where to set it. She glanced up for direction. Our gazes made contact and the feeling was electric.

"Oh!" she gasped, blinking furiously and causing me to smirk in response. Confused and surprised, she shook her head once to regain her composure and straightened. "Where do you want…?"

"Just anywhere is fine. Thank you." I kept my tone low and even, hoping I sounded reassuring. The last thing I wanted was to frighten her.

The others at the table hardly noticed as I removed the empty beer bottles and plates, still talking about cars and speed and horsepower.

"Can I get you anything else tonight?"

Mr. Wicked Fast shook his head. "No, just the check. Hey, you can split them up, right?" The woman sitting next to him groaned and rolled her eyes.

"What the hell, Mike? You think you're gonna get ripped off or something? Sheesh."

"It's not a problem, really," I said a bit too enthusiastically. Separate checks gave me the opportunity to learn Bella's full name.

"See? _Not a problem_ ," Mike said arrogantly. "Thanks, man."

I returned with a tab for each member of the party and collected the cards with the bills. It took all my willpower not to open Bella's as she handed it to me. As I stepped into my station, I opened the folder that had just left her hands. _Isabella Swan._ I knew it would be beautiful, I just knew it. _Bella Swan._

A daydream about the lovely Bella Swan launched in my head, where she and I walked hand-in-hand down a meadow, smiling, happy. I closed my eyes, enjoying the idea of being so close that questions and words weren't necessary.

Someone dropped a plate next to me, bringing me back to reality – which wasn't good. Not only was she _not_ beside me, she was getting ready to leave. I would never see her again, never hear her answers. Even though I had her name, there wasn't much I could do with that in a city this size.

With her open check before me, I scribbled my notes: First, 'Volvo' and then, 'What kind of car would YOU be?' Snapping the folder closed, I returned to the table to pass out the checks, giving Bella's check to her last and retreating to my station, like the coward I was.

I waited for surprise, delight, recognition, or shock to register on her sweet, heart-shaped face. But her expression stayed perfectly placid, and my heart sank. Sadness battled with disappointment as I watched her leave the restaurant with her friends. _Damn._

Gathering the checks slowly, I walked them back to my station. My defeat was overwhelming. Why had I been such a coward? Why not talk to her directly or catch her when she left? Why was this so important to me? What was I going to do?

My feet dragged as I approached the table to collect the checks. I couldn't bring myself to Bella's folder was the last in the group and I opened it reluctantly, unwilling to know she was gone forever. I scanned down the bill to my note and gasped when I saw the scrawl next to it. "A 56 Chevy truck" appeared directly below her signature, Bella Swan.

My heart soared. Bella Swan had answered me! She knew I'd heard her question – that I'd heard _her_ – and she responded. I sighed and pulled the open folder to my chest. It was a response, a release, a dream come true – until I looked around.

She wasn't there. Searching outside the front windows, I came up with nothing.

I'd lost her forever.

o~0~o

I finished my shift in a lackluster haze. Even my lower than usual tips couldn't overcome my disappointment in losing the woman I'd never had, but longed for all my life. I walked dejectedly out of the restaurant and across the asphalt of the parking lot toward my beat-up Volvo on the far side of the lot.

The lights of the restaurant blazed golden against the deep purple sky, before they blinked out, leaving me in the dark.

I didn't know why or how, but something broke through to me. I looked up and saw a big red monster of a truck sitting between my car and me. Bella's answer came back to me immediately, and my heart began pounding harder and faster.

Then I saw her. Sitting in the shadows on the truck's running board sat Bella Swan, watching me with eyes as deep as a starless night. She smiled, pulling me across the parking lot to stand in front of her.

She stood up and spread her arms wide. " _This_ red 56 Chevy truck," she said, raising her voice. "Thanks for asking."

"You're welcome," I replied, bowing slightly. "You know, I thought you'd walked out of my life forever."

"No way," she said, smiling. "I have so many questions to ask."

"That's okay," I happily replied. "I have a few thousand myself."


End file.
